Bright color in the thin shade
of dry casualties: proud skeletons
of fathers and grandfathers,
generations of Blue Oaks standing
stoically against the sky, against
time as the earth comes alive.
Each silent prayer is a short nod
in passing—too many decomposing
monuments for long eulogies
no one will remember—
we dance past death
as the last obstacle to life.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2016, Ranch Journal
Tagged Blue Oaks, Drought, photography, poetry
It could be explosions at sea
that cloud our sky, dim the peaks
that guide us home at dawn
as thunder cells return to the scene
of the Rough Fire, thermals billowing,
vortex rising in a fire storm.
The mountains wear the violence
that has shaped them, know the sound
of fury in all its beautiful colors.
Flash of tender bloom
on thorny spines for one day
each year: from hard times.
Posted in Haiku 2016, Photographs, Ranch Journal
Tagged Echinopsis, haiku, photography, poetry
Not ready long, they reach
for attention, beg to be seen
within the tall dry grass:
pink pulses clinging to the stem
like winged fairies resting might
if you let yourself believe.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2016
Tagged clarkia, Clarkia unguiculata, Elegant Clarkia, Mountain Garland, photography, poetry, wildflowers
We have our homes
and scratching posts
near at hand, grass
beds and running water
when it rains, we have
almost everything
that matters.
Funny how I can’t remember
just how the Lupine looked
like a brand-new town,
the crowded Gilia, white heads
bowed without a photograph
for proof. All the pretty faces
gone, I have a crush on spring—
as my mother, her coffee cup
beside me, would often say
of my impetuousness—I fall hard,
all ill feelings squeezed
from the inside out, swept away.
But etched in my skin, in the walls
of my brain, I can’t forget the dust,
every particle I inhaled of drought.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2016, Ranch Journal
Tagged Drought, flower-friday, gilia, lupine, photography, poetry, wildflowers
I dreamed I went upriver
on young legs until the roar
of snowmelt over boulders
shrank into a meadow
stream lined with pines—
going back in time.
Nothing has changed
the blackened rings,
the chiseled peaks beneath
a blue, blue sky—
and I am small again,
but with older eyes.
Where will our children go
when they get old at night?
What will they follow
to find themselves
content to be
engulfed in awe?
Thousands of friendly faces,
family reunions camped
on grassy slopes and swales
waiting in the wild
since the rains came.
The guests of honor pause
in calm disbelief, dismount
and crawl among them
to take a good long look
at spring.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2016, Ranch Journal
Tagged Golden Brodiaea, photography, poetry, Pretty Faces, Triteleia ixioides, wildflowers
Posted in Haiku 2016, Photographs, Poems 2016, Ranch Journal
Tagged haiku, photography, poetry, rare and endangered, wildflowers
To circumnavigate
the granite entwined as one
to bathe in sunshine.
~
On reconnaissance to ostensibly assess the native feed in order to decide when we will begin weaning our calves, Robbin and I spent a delightful day in Greasy yesterday. With more grass than cattle, it wasn’t the amount of grass, but its maturity we were judging between several camera stops and a quick snack with a clan of cows and calves. Though some wildflowers have been conspicuously absent this spring, like popcorn flowers, most have flourished while competing with the tall grass.
Posted in Haiku 2016, Photographs, Poems 2016
Tagged Dichelostemma volubile, photography, poetry, Twining Brodiaea, wildflowers
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